No Need For An Epiphany
by Jeffery Harris
Summary: Originally posted on the old TMFFA, ported over by request...and a prequel to the "Harem Saga & Sequel".


NO NEED FOR AN EPIPHANY

Epiphany: e-piph-a-ny  
1. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something.  
2. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization.

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."  
-- Sir Arthur C. Clarke's Third Law

"There's more to life than swordfighting."  
-- Duncan Macleod, _Highlander: The Series_

* * * * * S U N D A Y * * * * *

The mood in the Masaki residence was upbeat. The week that closed the month of April and opened the month of May is known as Golden Week. During this seven-day stretch there are three national holidays (Greenery Day, Constitution Memorial Day, and Boy's Festival Day), and scores of local festivals throughout Japan. Since there are so many national holidays in such a short time, many Japanese take (or are given) the entire Golden Week off from work. Even the schools are closed, which meant Tenchi would be home all week.

Which, of course, made his galactic houseguests very happy.

Lunch was concluded, the clean-up was finished, and as there were no further chores that needed immediate attention, the Ladies decided to head for the onsen. A hot soak in the tropical environment of the floating bubble, washed down with ample supplies of sake, would put a rosy glow to an already-sunny spring day. They gathered towels and shampoo, met in the living room, and exited the house.

So it was with more than a little surprise that the five females heard the shouting from the woods. It was even more astounding when they recognized the source of the noise: Tenchi. A very angry Tenchi. They had just enough time to glance at one another, eyebrows arched and shoulders raised, before Tenchi and his grandfather emerged from the trees. Yosho was calmly striding down the steps from the shrine, seemingly oblivious to the commotion from his trailing grandson. Tenchi was red-faced and gesticulating wildly, the Master Key clutched in his right hand.

"I'll never be able to control this damn thing!"

"It chose you, Tenchi, so it must disagree with you."

"Everyone and everything makes mistakes," he snarled back. "It must have made a mistake this time."

"It made no mistakes. Your heritage is written in your blood."

"Well, maybe my blood is just too diluted with all sorts of vile Earth elements."

"Remember, I have those 'vile Earth elements,' too."

"Humpf. If you're a half-breed, I guess that makes me a mongrel, doesn't it?" Seeing the open-mouthed audience watching the tirade, he pointed in their direction. "Since bloodlines are so important, why not give the stupid thing to Ayeka or Sasami? *They're* pure-bloods at least."

"The Master Key has made its decision," Yosho replied patiently. "It is not your place to dispute it."

Tenchi's response was to tremble in anger, and for a moment he drew back his hand with the obvious intention of casting the Master Key far out into the lake. At the last second, he stared at it with open disgust and marched off to the house, slamming the front door behind him.

There was a full minute of silence, before Ayeka asked her brother what had caused such an uncharacteristic outburst.

"He tried repeatedly to ignite the energy sword, and each time it extinguished itself within seconds. His concentration disappeared completely and he lost his temper." Yosho sighed, the first real crack in his composure. "Sometimes it seems that his development is going to be a slow, erratic process."

"He's been really out of sorts lately. Anybody have a clue what's eating him?" Ryoko asked.

"He's been civil enough to me," Washu offered.

"Me, too," Sasami added.

"Barely civil," Ayeka countered.

"He hasn't smiled in days," Mihoshi said. "Something is really upsetting him."

"Should I have a talk with him?" Washu asked Yosho.

Yosho shook his head. "No, I don't think he's in a very communicative mood. Let him alone for a while." He bowed to the ladies and quietly followed Tenchi into the house.

They shared shrugs and continued on towards the onsen, although not quite as lively as they had earlier.

* * * * *

Sasami and Mihoshi were carrying laden platters and full bowls to the table, as members of the household started gathering for the evening meal. They exchanged a few comments, and settled into their customary seats. The food smelled wonderful.

"Wait a minute," Sasami said, before sitting at the table. "Where are Tenchi and his father?"

"I dunno," Ryoko answered, followed by similar comments from the others.

"It's not like Tenchi to be late for dinner -- and Nobuyuki never misses a meal." Mihoshi said.

"Go ahead and start, I'll go fetch them." Sasami slipped out of the room and bounced up the stairs.

She wasn't gone long. She walked past the table and into the kitchen, emerging moments later with a tray and dishes, which she started filling from the table.

"Sasami, what are you doing?" Ayeka asked.

"They're up in Nobuyuki's room, talking. I offered to bring some food up to them."

All activity around the table ceased. No one was surprised by Sasami's generosity; everyone was surprised by her information.

"Tenchi and his father are *talking*?" Ayeka finally asked. Tenchi rarely spoke to his father about anything -- either Nobuyuki was absent (adopting the grueling schedule of most Japanese salarymen) or was doing something that thoroughly embarrassed his son. Not a soul present could remember the last occasion where anything approaching confidences had passed between the Masaki males. All eyes turned towards Yosho.

He merely shrugged and continued eating.

* * * * * M O N D A Y * * * * *

The same two chairs were vacant at breakfast, and once again Sasami offered to retrieve the missing diners. This time, however, she was gone much longer. She returned slowly to the table, sitting in her place with an unreadable expression on her face. She made no move to touch the meal she had worked so hard to prepare.

Her sister noticed the unusual behavior first. "What's wrong, Sasami?"

"They're gone."

"Could you be a little more specific?"

"Nobuyuki's jacket and briefcase are gone, and so is the van."

"So he went to work early. What about Tenchi?" Ryoko asked.

"Some of his clothes are missing, and so is the suitcase he keeps in his closet. His bed looks like it hasn't been slept in at all."

Ryoko floated away from her seat and vanished. She returned shortly, a very distraught look on her face. "Sasami's right: he packed-up and left. Without telling any of us."

* * * * *

Nobuyuki walked past the dinner table, oblivious to the looks from the ladies picking at the evening meal. He emerged a few moments later with a sake bottle and a glass, heading into the living room. Everyone around the table shared a 'what the hell?' expression. Dinner proceeded in silence.

Finally, Ryoko could stand it no longer. She was just rising from the table when Nobuyuki re-entered the room. She blocked his passage, arms crossed and a face full of questions. He returned her look absently.

"Excuse me, Nobuyuki," Washu said, "but could you please explain to us what's going on?"

"Yes, I suppose I could," he replied, but made no effort to do so.

"Ryoko, be a dear and get out of the man's face," Washu suggested. Ryoko complied (reluctantly) and returned to her seat. "Won't you join us?"

Nobuyuki considered it briefly, then settled into his regular place -- and pointedly set the sake bottle down in front of him.

"Where's Tenchi?" Ryoko asked.

"Gone," he answered.

"We know that, but where is he? And when is he coming back?"

"I arranged for him to stay with an old friend. As to when he's coming back...well, that's up to him. He may never come back."

Silence. Shocked silence. And the sound of sake being poured into a cup.

"What's going on?" Washu finally asked.

Nobuyuki sighed. "We had quite a long talk last night. We haven't had one of those in ages, and we had some catching-up to do. He's very unhappy right now, and very confused. So I arranged a little vacation for him, and drove him to the train station early this morning."

"Could you please elaborate for us?"

Nobuyuki swirled the sake around in his cup for a moment, considering his reply. "First, I imagine our customs must appear pretty ridiculous to you galactics. Still, they are *our* customs, and Tenchi was raised on them. It is our custom for the man to provide a secure home for his family, while his wife keeps the household stable and the children sound. Tenchi expected to follow the custom, and to meet and marry a girl who would accept that custom as well. Frankly, none of you fit the bill -- you are all too strong-willed and independent. Second, he's never fully come out of the cocoon he built after his mother died, despite my best efforts to encourage him. He's painfully shy sometimes, and scared to death about sex -- whether he's capable of it, and whether any girl is willing to accept him. Although on the bright side, he has had some interesting fantasies about each of you." Nobuyuki's brief smile was a mixture of pride and amusement. "And third, he found out that you three ladies," he indicated Ayeka, Ryoko, and Mihoshi, "have been going off to the strip bars of late. Considering how confused his feelings about you were already, your recent change in tastes for sexier men....well, he's pretty discouraged right now."

"Oh, no," Washu muttered. She turned a steely glare on the three young women sitting red-faced beside her. "You idiots!"

"How did he find out?" Ryoko asked. The other two indicated ignorance.

"He never seemed to mind before," Mihoshi said.

"Maybe he did, and was just too polite to say anything," Washu replied. "Besides, those were just bars. What possessed you three to go to the strip joints?"

"We were bored, and looking for some new distractions," Ryoko answered defensively.

"It never occurred to me that he might object," Ayeka whispered. Much of the blood had drained from her face. "I found those caricatures amusing, but hardly attractive..."

"I thought the waiters were cute, and the dancers were funny, but I wasn't looking for a fling," Mihoshi said, her eyes beginning to water. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings...."

Ryoko said nothing.

"What about you?" Washu asked her.

Ryoko remained silent.

"Well?" Ayeka demanded.

"Alright, alright, there was only that one dancer -- but I couldn't go through with it. I kept seeing Tenchi's face."

"And you profess to love him so much," Ayeka sneered.

"I couldn't help it," Ryoko whispered. "I just get so lonely sometimes, and he never returns my affections." She looked over at Nobuyuki. "Does he know about..."

"...Your 'near indiscretion'? Probably. He seemed pretty-well informed about your activities." Ryoko blanched. Nobuyuki crossed his arms and looked sadly at his guests. "You know, not once have I complained about the damage and destruction you ladies have brought to this house. I figured that it was worth it to see my son emerge from his shell. Despite all of the disruptions and the chaos, I hoped he would find happiness with one of you. I guess it was probably wishful thinking." He reached for his sake. "We'll just have to wait and see what Tenchi decides to do. He may return in a few days; but if he has decided to wash his hands of you, then I will have to ask you all to leave." He collected his bottle and went back to the living room.

The only sound in the room was quiet sobbing.

* * * * *

Tenchi lay on the bed staring absently at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him. He tried not to think about his family and friends, because doing so only brought his frustration boiling to the surface again. He had better success reviewing the day's events, consigning them to long-term memory.

The day had started by taking the train to Nagasaki, and then a bus to the village of Shirone. It was well into the afternoon by the time he arrived at the bus station, and he worried a little about identifying the people who were to meet him. But his concerns vanished when he saw the middle-aged couple holding a sign with his name printed on it. They introduced themselves as Seiji & Emiko Okino, and Tenchi liked them immediately.

They walked back to the Okino house, chatting and making small talk. Conversation continued around the dinner table, where Tenchi learned that Seiji and his father had attended school together, sharing a passion for art and design. Whereas Nobuyuki had drifted into the practical world of architecture, Seiji had found himself drawn to the somewhat exotic world of kites. The two friends had kept in touch over the years, each proud of the other's accomplishments. Tenchi also learned that Emiko had been a friend of his mother's, and the two couples had often socialized together. Emiko was very saddened when Achika had died, and she wondered how Nobuyuki had managed without her over the years.

Tenchi also learned that Seiji was a well-known kite maker in Shirone. He and his wife had lived for a time in Nagasaki, where he had served his apprenticeship. Seiji's specialty was the hata, or fighting kite. The local variety was a modified form of the Indian fighters that the Dutch had imported to Nagasaki over four centuries earlier, adapted to local wind and weather conditions. A few of his kites had even been put on display in the Shirone kite museum.

It had been a long day, and he found himself yawning repeatedly not long after dinner. The bedroom he was shown to belonged to the Okino's youngest son, now away at college. It was decorated with a few university banners and flags, a small collection of knick-knacks, and a half-dozen photographs of the family and friends. In other words, it was much like his own room back in Okayama. Once the lights were out, he found that he just couldn't relax. Familiar faces marched across his vision, and he wavered between irritation and a shallow embarrassment. He had left rather abruptly, after all. But the whole crowded arrangement was just too much sometimes. They were always chasing him, or fighting over him, and now they had started deserting him. And his father could be such a voyeur sometimes, and his grandfather was always babbling about the "proper mindset of a warrior"....

At one point he retrieved the Master Key from his suitcase, trying to reach out with his mind and force his will over the semi-sentient mechanism. He could feel its responses, of course, but he just couldn't hold them. And the more he tried to apply his intentions, the slipperier it became. The result was even greater frustration.

Sleep came, eventually.

* * * * * T U E S D A Y * * * * *

In the morning Tenchi accompanied his host to his kite studio, which was adjacent to the house. As Seiji opened the door to his studio, Tenchi was shocked: there were literally hundreds of perfect kite spines, boxes of tassels, spars and all the parts for making kites, organized into boxes and shelves. Hanging on the walls were dozens of kites already completed, as well as completed hata hanging from wires strung across the ceiling. Seiji explained that kites are constructed by cutting out the designs from white washi (mulberry) paper, and then pasting them together with a carefully-mixed glue. Then they are decorated with appliqu s of red, white and blue in any of the 200 traditional images. The last step is to stretch them over bamboo frames and lace them with cords.

As this was the eve of the annual Shirone Giant Kite Battle, there were many last-minute details to attend to: kites to be delivered to the various teams participating, many individual entries, and an endless list of errands to be run. Seiji was grateful for Tenchi's offer to help, and kept him so busy that he had no time to consider the problems that drove him from his home. By dinner-time, Tenchi was ready to crash and relax for a while.

However, during dinner Seiji mentioned that he was planning on attending his regular kendo class, and invited Tenchi to tag along. "You won't be able to participate, unfortunately, but you might find it interesting."

Tenchi accepted the invitation, more out of hospitality than any interest. They walked the few blocks in the cool evening air, the afternoon sky reluctantly yielding to the dark blanket of night. The kendo school was located in the second story of a warehouse not far from Seiji's studio. It was just as Tenchi imagined it would be: very clean wooden floors, high ceilings, and a small changing room in one corner. Otherwise, it was quite Spartan. There were tatami mats placed along the wall near the main entrance for visitors, and Tenchi settled himself there beside the other guests.

The class consisted of two dozen men of various ages, each dressed in a dark jacket and pleated pants and body armor, carrying a wire frame face shield and a bamboo training sword. They sat along the opposite wall from their master, seniors to juniors, and upon command all bowed to the shrine and to the teacher.

Tenchi watched them absently as they performed their meditation and warm-up exercises. He engaged in similar activities before each practice session with his grandfather. None of the routines were new to him, really: he had been exposed to kendo at school. But he had never really been enthusiastic about it -- after all, he had been studying the family's martial art style since he was six. His take-it-or-leave-it attitude solidified the weekend two years previous when Yosho had taken him to an amateur competition in Tokyo. Crowded and noisy, the boy's interest had peaked by mid-morning, so they had caught the early train home. On the long ride back to Okayama, Yosho had prodded his grandson about his waning interest in the sport.

"For starters, there are too many rules. And they limited the targets."

Yosho nodded. "In sports there are rules for safety and scoring points. Not a very realistic combat simulation."

"And the bamboo swords they used are so unlike the bokken we practice with. They seemed so weightless, and unrealistic."

"Indeed," Yosho agreed. "The shinai is designed to inflict little, if any, injury. Whereas the bokken is a heavy wooden substitute for a metal weapon, used to prevent injury to the fragile katana -- not the student. What else?"

"I saw some flashy, risky techniques. They took chances that sometimes didn't work."

"That is true of any form of competition. But you must remember their focus: they are playing a game, not risking their lives."

"Grandpa? How well do you think I would do against some of those guys we saw today?"

"In a kendo match? You would be easily defeated."

Tenchi gaped at him. "'Easily defeated'?"

"Calm down, Tenchi. Those boys have spent years training at a sport. You have spent an equal amount of time training for combat. It's a different mindset, and a different skillset. I doubt seriously that many of them have studied sword and fist arts, grappling, joint-locking, and ground-fighting quite as assiduously as you have, if at all. As you said earlier, there are 'way too many rules.' In combat there are *no* rules -- anything goes."

Tenchi had grumbled about the comparison.

"You can always put in more practice time, if you choose. In fact, you could devote the rest of your life to the fighting arts to the exclusion of everything else. You would become a truly ferocious swordsman, the Best of the Best....for as long as it would last."

"Huh?"

"The trouble with any competitive endeavor is that, assuming you actually reach the pinnacle, sooner or later you will be unseated from your perch. Champions tend to burn-out quickly, and the price for such supremacy is almost always high." Yosho canted his head, looking at his grandson from beneath a cocked eyebrow. "Such a lifestyle generally demands a narrow focus. All distractions must be eliminated. How many of your activities are you willing to give up?"

The memory faded, and Tenchi watched the practice matches. Seiji was good, holding his own with nearly everyone in the school. He remained calm, alert, and nimble, and Tenchi did a mental comparison between this man and his father. It was hard to picture either of them his own age, let alone courting the girls they would one day wed.

Which raised the inevitable mental images of his alien houseguests, and the behavior which had so irked him. He had to admit, though, that it really wasn't their fault. The problem was his; he refused to be forced into picking a favorite, and he couldn't blame them for getting tired of waiting. He would probably behave similarly, if their positions were reversed. No, the problem was definitely his, and it spilled-over into his erratic control of the Master Key. There were moments, of course, when he would bond with the weapon, and it would function reliably for him. At those times it responded properly....until something distracted him, and the linkage was disrupted. He just couldn't hang onto it, try as he might. In love and war he was failing both miserably.

* * * * * W E D N E S D A Y * * * * *

Seiji studied Tenchi across the breakfast table. "Since you will be spending a large portion of your time around kites for the next few days, it might be prudent to ask if you have ever flown one?"

"Well, my father and I did a couple of times when I was younger, but that was a long time ago."

"Then the practical answer is 'no,'" Seiji said.

Tenchi nodded.

"Well, perhaps we should go fly a kite." Seiji collected a small diamond-shaped kite and a spool of twine from his shop, and Tenchi accompanied him to one of the local parks. They talked as they walked.

"Kites in general, and fighting kites in particular, require a combination of skill, quick reflexes, and total concentration to perform effectively. Since you are a beginner, I have attached a long tail to the rear of this kite. That will slow down its movements. As you become more skilled, it will be possible to shorten the tail. Eventually, you will be able to dispense with it altogether."

They chose a spot with few trees and obstructions. Seiji handed the kite to Tenchi, directed him to hold it flat while facing into the wind, tied the end of the twine onto the bridle strings of the kite, and then began walking backwards unrolling twine from the spool. When he had traveled about 15 meters, he stopped and began unwinding enough twine from the spool to build a coil on the ground by his feet. The spool was then set on the ground nearby. He double-checked that the line was free of entanglements, and then signaled to Tenchi to release the kite. Tenchi held it over his head with one hand and set it free. Seiji commenced to pull on the flying line hand-over-hand so that the kite climbed quickly above the ground turbulence. Tenchi walked over to stand beside him.

"The closer the kite is to you, the faster your reactions will have to be," Seiji said. "A good altitude to start from is about 60 meters. However, your kite is unlikely to climb that high directly. You are going to have to coax it a few times."

"How?"

"Let the flying line run freely through your fingers, like this" Seiji replied, demonstrating. "The kite will spin slowly and lose altitude as it moves downwind. As soon as the nose of the kite is pointing in the direction you want (up, in this case), stop the line. The kite will now move in that direction."

Tenchi watched Seiji maneuver the kite. It seemed easy enough, almost effortless. How difficult could it be?

"Are you ready to try?" Seiji asked.

"Yes," Tenchi answered, and grasped the twine as Seiji passed it to him. Seiji stepped to the side and watched, a half smile painted on his face.

Tenchi attempted to reproduce Seiji's technique -- and very nearly put the kite into the ground. Seiji intervened at the last moment, and guided the kite back to its original height. "Try it again," he urged, passing the line back to Tenchi.

The second attempt was almost as bad as the first, and Seiji had to rescue the kite again.

The third attempt was smoother, and by the sixth attempt Tenchi had actually gotten the kite higher into the air. It was not as easy as it looked.

"Try steering the kite a bit, left and right," Seiji suggested. While Tenchi worked the maneuvers, Seiji offered some further advice. "If the kite is flown too far to one side, it loses stability. If that happens, pull in the line. And be sure to keep enough extra twine on the pile so that if you have to release the line suddenly, you can draw upon the surplus. The twine does you no good wrapped around the spool."

Tenchi nodded, watching his kite flutter and dance.

* * * * *

It was a quiet dinner at the Masaki house. In fact, every meal since Sunday had been quiet. No arguing, no bickering, and not much enthusiasm. Sasami's efforts had been barely adequate, since her heart wasn't really in it. No one complained because no one noticed.

It had become a ritual of sorts. As soon as Nobuyuki sat down, one of the girls (usually Ryoko) would ask in a desultory fashion, "Any word from Tenchi?" Nobuyuki would either shake his head or use the 'N' word, and that would pretty-much kill all conversation for the rest of evening. Even sitting around the television did not produce any discourse. Whoever had the remote picked the show, and everyone else either watched silently or drifted away.

With Tenchi gone, the household lacked any focus.

Golden Week had lost all of its luster.

* * * * * T H U R S D A Y * * * * *

This was the first day of the festival, and it proved to be a memorable one.

The activities started about 9:00am, when Tenchi and Seiji heard a noise from the street outside of the studio. When they went to investigate, they discovered a group of children in school uniforms marching by, blowing whistles as they marched in cadence. They carried a large rolled-up kite.

"Where are they going?" Tenchi asked.

"Down to the river. Today is Children s' Day. And that is an O-dako," Seiji said, indicating the two-meter-long paper-and-bamboo bundle. "The children's kites are only about half the size of those used by the adults, and so are easier to manage." He chuckled. "The real fighting will begin tomorrow!"

Seiji went on to explain the nature of the 'battles': each O-dako kite is flown by a team of 25-30 children, who face a similar team across the Nakanoguchi River that separates Shirone from Ajikata. Opposing teams line up along the banks of the river, where they set up their kites along the sidewalk that runs parallel to the riverbank. When both sides are ready, a command is given, and each team runs down the sidewalk pulling the flying line on the kite. The object is to snare the opposing kite from across the river, and for that reason a log is tied to the back of each kite to aid in the entangling. More often than not, though, the kites simply fall into the river and the washi paper dissolves immediately; then replacements are brought out and another round ensues. If the kites fall upon the ground, they are rescued and the teams carry them back up the sidewalk and re-launch them. But on those occasions that one team's kite hooks the other's, and the lines get entangled, then the teams drag the kites onto a special ramp erected across the river, the flying lines are stretched in opposite directions, the ends are tied to telephone poles, and everyone grabs the flying line. At a signal from the referee a tug-of-war commences while chanting "Washoi" ("Forward"). Only one tug of war is permitted at a time, so if another kite tangle happens their teams must wait to get access to the ramp. Eventually one kite's flying line will break, and whichever team gets most of the line scores the point.

"Oh, I gotta see this!" Tenchi said. Seiji laughed as they followed the children down to the river. They made one stop along the way, to a large warehouse where all the kites constructed during the past year were stored. Tenchi stared open-mouthed at the hundreds of full-sized O-dako kites stacked in neat piles upon the tarp-covered floor, each fully four meters across. Buckets and bottles lay around the stacks, and hemp bridle lines hung everywhere. There were even piles of logs ready for attachment. Seiji took a quick inventory before nodding with satisfaction, and then he led Tenchi outside and down to the river where the kite battles take place.

The first Shirone team was just getting its kite airborne. The excited children were running like a gaggle of geese, yelling and laughing and tugging their kite into the air. The opposing team's kite was already airborne, its young pilots experimenting with ways to steer the kite out over the river. The temporary ramp had already been erected, and judges were taking their positions.

The Shirone kite was quickly snagged by the Ajikata O-dako, both kites tumbled into the river, and the mess of hemp and bamboo and soggy paper was maneuvered up onto the ramp, where the struggle began in earnest. After ten minutes and one two-minute break, the Shirone team lost, but not without a valiant effort.

Tenchi found himself standing next to Seiji at one point, and made the comment that this wasn't quite how he envisioned kite-fighting.

"You are correct, Tenchi, this isn't the standard method. The standard method is to cut the opponent's flying line before he does the same to you. There are many strategies, of course, but it all boils down to the need to get below your opponent's flying line and lift it. That will cause his line to fray quickly. To defend against his attack, you release your line so that the friction is spread over more of your line."

"But that's not what they're doing here," Tenchi said, pointing to the tug-of-wars across the Nakanoguchi River.

"Correct again. Here, the goal is not to cut the opposing team's flying line, but to drag their kite to the ground. More like judo than kendo."

And so the rest of the morning went, as swarms of children wrestled with kites and each other. The few adult spectators on both sides of the river were soon assisting with the launch efforts, and everyone had a good time.

* * * * *

Washu gave herself a mental pat on the back for her detective work. She had hacked into the railroad's database for the previous Sunday morning and determined Tenchi's train's destination. That was the easy part. Then she began scanning the environs of Nagasaki for some trace of him. After several frustrating hours, she broadened her scope to include the bus companies, and had thus rediscovered his trail. Once she had locked her instruments upon the little town of Shirone, she detected the Master Key almost immediately. Then she began watching its pattern of movement, which consisted completely of traveling back-and-forth between one particular house and the river, with a noontime pause at the same city park every day. Today, she had simply waited until the Master Key was stationary at the park, and then opened a dimensional portal to its coordinates. She stepped through to find Tenchi sitting on a bench, staring absently at the Master Key in his hands.

She sat down next to him and waited for him to notice her. After a few minutes of watching his vacant eyes, she put a hand on his shoulder and shook it. Hard. His eyelids fluttered briefly before focusing on her face. His smile appeared as he recognized her. "Oh! Hello, Little Washu."

"Hello, yourself. How are you feeling?" She sensed no hostility from him; in fact, he seemed the same old Tenchi that they had all come to know. And love.

"I'm fine."

"You seemed to be concentrating on something important."

"I was just thinking about this," he indicated the elaborately sculpted device in his hands. "I just wondered how energy swords worked."

"Maybe I can help with that," she offered. He nodded and leaned back, half-turning to face her. She had to admit, it was good to see him again. She extended her right arm, palm upwards. A swarm of tiny sparks shimmered into existence in the air above her palm, gathering into one fist-sized sphere of red-yellow light. The ball contorted and elongated, becoming a long thin cylinder, the lower third resting across her palm and extending below it. The action startled Tenchi: he had seen Ryoko do it many times, but had never seen Washu create an energy sword of her own. "Basically," Washu stated, "energy swords are not swords at all -- they're warp bubbles."

"Huh?"

She smiled at Tenchi's confusion. "A warp bubble; a very long, very thin, dimensional doorway. I know you don't understand hyperdimensional physics, so trust me on this. It's really nothing all that complicated. Just remember that galactic civilization has been around for a long time, and the technology for building dimensional portals is as old as interstellar travel. Miniature versions of these blades have been standard equipment in galactic surgeries for centuries, and much larger versions are used to cut everything from sheet metal to solid rock."

"I thought a doorway has to go somewhere?"

"It does -- but no further than a few Planck lengths." She swung her empty left hand slowly through the air. "Notice that when I wave my hand, the air moves through my fingers without much interference. That's exactly what happens to any atoms entering the event horizon of the warp bubble -- they are displaced a very small distance. However, that tiny distance is more than enough to cause catastrophic disruption to any molecules that the atoms may be bonded to."

"So the actual cutting portion -- the bubble -- is not very wide?"

"Nope. It doesn't need to be. A large portal consumes a lot of energy. I'm able to generate enough power on my own to maintain a relatively small warp bubble."

Tenchi ignited the Master Key, holding it at arms' length. The 100 cm-long blade snarled into existence, humming softly. The blue-white rod looked to be about 2.5cm in diameter, but it was hard to keep in focus, like staring at a fluorescent bulb. "But it looks so much thicker..."

"That's just the corona., which is caused by photons from hyperspace spilling into realspace."

"Ok. But why is your blade red and this blade blue?"

"The membrane (or skin if you like) of the bubble is tuned to filter-out all but a portion of the energy backwash from hyperspace. Good thing, too, because there is some seriously lethal radiation involved. It would kill the person using the sword if its membrane ever failed. And the color is just an attribute, a personal preference."

"Why bother? All your portals are black." He gestured towards the doorway hovering behind them.

"For the same reason some of your world's projectile ammunition has a tracer coating -- so you can track where the bullet is going. Would you like to try using an invisible sword? And all of my portals are fully shielded because it's just easier for a simple doorway -- but I would very much want a marker on a cutting implement."

"Why don't the blades pass through one another?" Tenchi asked, tapping Washu's blade with his own.

"Good question. The answer is that portals repel one another, which means the blades will block one another."

"Ok, but how do you hang onto something so disruptive that it will rend sheet metal? At least the Master Key acts like a hilt."

"If you'll look at my sword, you'll notice that it is much brighter at the end away from my hands. That's because the membrane is much thinner and more porous up there; down at the 'gripping end' it is much thicker. Here, try grasping the hilt." She took his hand and placed it on the glowing rod just below her right hand, and then placed her left hand over his so that his fingers were forced down onto the weapon. He was surprised by the warm rubbery texture, and the fact that it was as thick around as his thumb. Washu released her grip on the sword, and for just an instant he held the humming, vibrating cylinder. And then it flickered out of existence.

"Any other questions?" Washu asked.

"H-m-m-m....what about weight? The Master Key feels almost as heavy as a bokken. I thought photons didn t weigh anything?"

"Oh, good observation!" Washu grinned. "You get a gold star for that one. The answer is that you are confusing weight with resistance. The fabric of realspace is not so easily pushed aside by the passage of the warp bubble." She looked around until she spotted a small fountain bubbling quietly in a secluded shrine. Taking his hand, she led him towards the fountain. Tenchi extinguished the Master Key and returned it to his pocket. She kneeled (forcing him to join her) and inserted his hand into the water. She began sweeping his arm back and forth. "What do you notice?" Washu asked.

"The water hinders the passage of my hand."

"But not by much, huh?"

"No." Tenchi stood, shaking droplets off his fingers.

"Resistance is minimal, but definitely noticeable. Any other question?"

"No, other than I can't control the damn thing..."

So there it was: the Major Problem eating at him. Washu put her hand on his shoulder. "Tenchi, I think your grandfather has done you a disservice. He has spent so much time emphasizing the Master Key as a weapon that he has not put enough emphasis on it's other capabilities. The Master Key is a multi-function tool; the blade is just one of its features. Since there are so few members of the Royal Family capable of generating an energy sword, the Master Key was given the function as a precaution. You just need to learn to control it. Eventually, you'll be able to dispense with it altogether....which is something your grandfather will never be able to do."

Tenchi was silent for a moment, digesting her comments. "I hadn't looked at it that way."

Washu sighed and smiled at him. "You are just too impatient. You can't expect to accomplish in one or two years what many of us have had centuries to learn. To be honest, your abilities amaze me. You're a quick study, Tenchi, and you've absorbed a tremendous amount of knowledge in a short time. You should be proud of yourself -- the rest of us are very proud of you."

She remained standing with him, watching the trees shiver in the wind, the clouds scuttle by, and the light of understanding grow in his eyes. He finally looked at his watch and shrugged. "I have to be going now, Little Washu. You've been a big help. Thanks."

"When are you coming home, Tenchi?" She didn't ask 'if' -- she hoped she wouldn't need to.

"Sunday," he replied. She discreetly breathed a sigh of relief. "Do me a favor, though, would you?"

"Sure."

"Don't tell anyone back at the house. I'm not trying to surprise anyone, I just don't want to make a big deal of it."

"I understand," she smiled.

* * * * * F R I D A Y * * * * *

The day began with a parade, giving the neighborhood teams a chance to display their fighting kites. Each neighborhood contributed as many as 20 kites, paid for by local association dues. Kites were adorned with the neighborhood insignia, or traditional images, and in many cases signed with the names of firstborn sons born during the previous year (girls have their own holiday in March, where elaborate dolls substitute for the expensive kites). The various neighborhoods providing O-dako teams arrived around noon wearing matching happi coats and bearing their four-meter-tall kites, supplies of rope, tatami mats (to be soaked in water and wrapped around the flying lines), patch kits, and extra logs. They assembled behind the high school bands and the Festival officials, and began their enthusiastic march through the winding streets that lead to the river.

"What are those?" Tenchi asked Seiji, pointing to new groups of flyers joining the rear of the parade.

"Those are Rokkaku," he replied. The Rokkaku were six-sided three-meter-tall kites which were more stable in flight than the big O-dako. "Their teams are independent of the neighborhoods, and are usually sponsored by local businesses."

Tenchi and Seiji joined the herd of spectators that trailed the parade. As this was a weekday, the crowds were thin, but the ever-opportunistic merchants had set-up booths selling food and souvenirs. Drifting among these were musicians and miscellaneous street vendors. The riverfront took on a distinctly carnival-like atmosphere.

The O-dako teams arranged themselves along the levee in ranks extending upstream and downstream, corresponding to their opponents on the Ajikata side. But the Rokkaku teams were far less organized, setting-up their kites at random intervals. The sidewalk had looked like a serenely picturesque boulevard before lunch, but by mid-afternoon it swarmed with huge kites and clusters of uniformed flyers. There were 24 teams of O-dako fighters, manned by 25-30 people each, and nearly 40 Rokkaku teams, with crews of 5-8 people each, all running down the sidewalk launching kites like so many startled waterfowl. Not many kites climbed successfully into the air on the first attempt, and they crashed upon their wildly gesticulationing crews. Spectators and flyers alike had to be ever-mindful of falling kites -- which were heavy enough to cause injuries. And the spectators never hesitated to assist any of the teams, whether launching a kite or engaging in the resulting tug-of-war. And unlike the very organized tug-of-wars of the O-dako, which were confined to the main ramp, the Rokkaku contests occurred anywhere, anytime.

The afternoon was sheer chaos.

Tenchi was recruited by a Rokkaku team, and spent the afternoon launching kites and competing in the ground duels. He was handed a pair of arm protectors (to guard against rope burns), told what the Team Captain's signals meant (delivered by furious blasts on his whistle), and assigned to help the Rear Guard anchoring the kite (whose job it was his job to pay-out/ reel-in the flying line from a portable winch.) Tenchi quickly discovered that getting a kite into the air was only the first half of the effort. Once deployed, it had to be maneuvered around the other Shirone kites and out over the river, where the Ajikata opponents were hovering. Then the real dueling began. Of the three kites his team launched that day, two of them won the ensuing tug-of-wars, to much back-slapping and posturing by his teammates.

At sunset, Tenchi trudged back to the Okino house exhausted but exhilarated. He had narrowly missed getting trampled twice, and a loose flying line had grazed across his shoulder at one point, leaving a mild rope burn. By contrast, Seiji was hardly winded. Tenchi asked him about this over dinner.

"Are you familiar with the term 'munenmuso'?"

Tenchi nodded. He was very familiar with it, as his grandfather had been praising its benefits since he was a small boy. By definition, munenmuso is a state of no-mind or no-desires. In practice, it is the deliberate separation of the conscious mind from the body. At first blush, the concept seems counter-intuitive: that any situation requires the higher mind to select a response and direct it throughout a complete cycle. However, this reasoning is faulty. Munenmuso unburdens the subconscious to analyze and interpret the correct response without waiting for the conscious mind to intervene and dither about. It bestows a tremendous advantage upon the individual who attains it. Good Example: Walking. Ever go shopping or jogging, and focus your attention upon exterior sights and obstacles? Did you have to direct your legs and feet to perform any of the locomotion or navigation? No. Years of practice has forced your body to refine its procedures. Higher-level micromanagement is not only unnecessary, it can cause a mis-step. Better Example: Ever daydream while driving a car? At some point you drift off, only to awaken miles away, having crossed the intervening distance safely. Your body/sub-conscious knew how to perform the functions without any ego-based direction. In essence, the car drove itself. Best Example: A beginning sword student is just a clumsy man with a sword. But after a few years of training, he becomes a swordsman, a martial artists whose actions and responses are integrated. But the subsequent stage of training completely removes the higher mind, speeding-up the reaction time and eliminating all distractions. In the end, the individual is ultra-efficient and ultra-economical; a sword that fights by itself.

"It is the same with learning to fly the kite," Seiji continued. "You do not anticipate the kite's movements, because it is at the mercy of the wind. You do not anticipate the movements of the crowds, because they are subject to the whims of chance. You remain open to the environment and free of judgment, and thus your responses will be free of preconceptions and inhibitions."

Tenchi had never considered applying munenmuso outside of the martial arts. It made perfect sense, once he thought about it. He remembered a recent practice session with his grandfather. Tenchi had brought along his bokken as usual. His grandfather brought two short staves with him. He handed one to Tenchi. "Are we practicing with jo, now?"

"Take a closer look at it," Yosho had instructed.

Tenchi did so, noticing that one end of each staff had been wrapped in tape for a third of its length. "What's with the tape, Grandpa?"

"It's time to take your training to the next level, Tenchi. We will dispense with bokken from now on, and use these modified jo instead."

"Why?"

"Because they more closely resemble the weapons you are *now* likely to face: energy swords. The tape represents the hilt."

"How so?"

"Consider the nature of the weapon: every portion of an energy blade 'cuts' -- and it will cut through just about anything. Consequently, strikes are more circular than those used by a planar weapon with a distinct cutting edge. The techniques for using it effectively are actually more akin to stick-fighting. There is almost as much danger to you from your own weapon as there is from your opponent's; you cannot afford to allow *any* part of your blade -- or your opponent's -- to touch you."

"How many energy swords am I likely to encounter?"

"Even if you only encounter one more besides your own, as long as it is aimed at your heart it is one too many. As it is, you will likely find that there are *thousands* of energy swords across the galaxy. It is very popular in some quarters."

"But, I thought the Master Key was unique," Tenchi sputtered. "Are semi-sentient swords so common?"

Yosho shrugged. "Who can say? It would be prudent to assume nothing about the weapons you are likely to encounter, and simply prepare as best as you can. And who is to say when you might face someone like Ryoko, who can generate her own energy sword directly, without the need of an intermediary."

"Why are we making this change now? Maybe I should've started using it earlier."

"There was no way of knowing the future," Yosho had replied. "If you had never freed Ryoko, you may never have inherited the Master Key, and thus remained unaware of such technology. In such a state of ignorance, the time was better spent studying the traditions of your Japanese ancestors."

Later, after much sweat and two new bruises, Yosho had called a break. Tenchi sat on a log, catching his breath and considering the new mechanics he was being instructed in. "Grandpa, what was your fight with Ryoko like? How did you defeat her?"

"She was easily the most formidable adversary I have ever faced," Yosho answered slowly. "You know of her capabilities....but at the time of our conflict I had only an inkling of what she could do. I nearly paid for my education with my life." He paused for a moment, waiting to see if Tenchi would interrupt. But Tenchi was content to let his grandfather finish the tale at his own pace. "Ryoko and I had radically different approaches to combat. I was trained in the family style, whose focus is on conservative but battle-tested techniques. Ryoko, however, lacks any formal style -- she is a quintessential 'street-brawler', and an experienced one at that. What makes her so dangerous are her extraordinary powers. Her ability to phase through obstacles, to teleport behind or above her opponent, and to shower energy bolts upon her adversaries, makes combat with her an exercise in random and unpredictable situations."

"So how did you defeat her?"

"Munenmuso," Yosho replied.

* * * * * S A T U R D A Y * * * * *

Saturday afternoon was total pandemonium.

The sky over the river became an aerial battlefield, where kites grappled like spiders in their webs, ringing with the sounds of fluttering paper and buzzing flight lines. The riverbanks below were a sheer cacophony of snapping flags, blaring drums and trumpets, and the near-deafening roar of running, stomping gladiators.

The number of participating teams had nearly doubled, and the number of flyers per team had increased dramatically: often there were 50 people launching the big O-dako, and as many as 30 people per Rokkaku. And that wasn't counting the thousands of spectators -- who jumped into each and every tug-of-war, swelling the team sizes to 100 people or more.

Kite fights increased in frequency, with kites crashing down on spectators and participants alike with alarming regularity. The ambulances did a steady business rushing the injured off to the hospital. Security details were sent into the crowds to quell fistfights and keep people from being trampled. Utmost concentration was required to avoid the knee-high ropes, the rising/falling kites, the hordes of spectators wandering into the launch area, and the ever-present danger of getting dragged along with your teammates when they went foaming down the sidewalk like a parti-colored tsunami.

Tenchi discovered quite quickly that by placing himself in the proper state of awareness, i.e., munenmuso, he was able to function quite effectively. He was aware of everyone around him, everything in motion, ropes and kites and bodies and even the wind. The hours passed in a timeless blur.

The end of the festival was marked by parades and parties, with revelers singing, drinking beer and sake, and dancing in streets lit by paper lanterns. For once, the citizenry mingled in common camaraderie, rather than isolate themselves into their traditional groups. All-in-all over 1700 kites were flown and trashed during the festival, which was a way of celebrating the unity of the neighborhoods. It was simply incredible.

* * * * *

Tenchi didn't think much about anything that evening, at least in the beginning. He visited the street parties with the Okinos, sipping sake and enjoying the music. But during the course of the evening, he experienced an epiphany of sorts. He had been 'adopted' by a group of local teens, and while the girls were friendly enough (dancing and flirting with him), the boys kept their distance until they learned that he would be leaving in the morning. Their jealousy was obvious, and Tenchi found it disturbing -- until he recognized his own behavior in them, and the similar way he behaved towards his galactic houseguests. Which disgusted him even more. After all, there were no marriages at risk in either situation, and it was all pretty harmless in retrospect. He didn't own any of them, any more than these boys owned their girlfriends. In fact, these boys had a more-legitimate grievance, since they were actively courting their girls; he had been just as actively avoiding any commitments at home. The words Double Standard flashed before his eyes. He felt like he owed Ayeka, Mihoshi, and Ryoko an apology for being too hard on them. He'd been a real jerk.

Somewhat tipsy, he bid his hosts goodnight and shuffled off to his room. He was too wound-up for sleep, and while sitting on the edge of his bed his eyes focused on the Master Key. He retrieved it, gripping the hilt loosely. What if he never mastered this thing? Well, so what? Its absence would simplify his life.

His mind reached out and encountered the sentience imbedded within the artifact. He had never really been comfortable with it, and had tried to equate it to something familiar....like a dog or a cat. But common house pets all had unique personalities, which the Master Key notably lacked. It seemed a construct of near total awareness, and little else. Like a damned machine. And then he remembered Washu's advice, that the Master Key really *was* nothing more than a high-tech pocket knife. For that matter, most Juraian household utilities were semi-sentient, too; you turned them on and off with a thought, rather than a switch. No Big Deal.

With a shrug, he formed a mental picture of the blue-white blade, and the Master Key responded. A simple implement, really. He felt it hesitate a bit, as it divided its resources among the task at hand and the other processes it was performing. Multi-tasking, the computer nerds called it. A part of his mind nudged it back to the primary task, much like tugging a kite string. The blade never flickered or wavered.

And suddenly Tenchi experienced his second epiphany of the evening: munenmuso -- leave it to his sub-conscious rather than brute-force micromanaging. He had been trying too hard! It was so obvious, and it had been staring him in the face all along. He spent the next half hour just playing with the Master Key, careful not to cut any of the furniture (or walls) in half, amazed at the modest effort required to actually ignite and maintain the blue-white blade.

When he did finally calm down enough to sleep, it was with the knowledge that he need never fear the Master Key again.

* * * * * S U N D A Y * * * * *

The afternoon sun shone though the transparent wall of the onsen. Though the interior was as warm and bright as a tropical island, it was still insufficient to lighten the gloom. Five female figures lounged in the bath, sipping sake and not looking at anything or anyone in particular. It was silent enough to hear the water ripple, despite Washu's humming.

"You're awfully chipper today," Ryoko observed.

"I have reason to be," Washu replied.

"Care to share it with us?"

"In a moment. But first, would you fetch us another bottle of sake, Sasami?"

"Ok," she sighed, climbing out of the pool. She left a trail of puddles across the tile, and her feet slapped the floor wetly. She was just bending over the bucket by the transparent wall when a movement caught her eye. She gasped and stood upright. "Nobuyuki just returned with the van."

"So?" Ayeka responded glumly.

"So, he just took Tenchi's suitcase out of the back!"

Three bodies erupted from the pool, followed calmly by Washu. They clustered around Sasami, straining to look across the gap to the house.

"I don't see Tenchi anywhere," Mihoshi muttered. "But that is definitely his suitcase."

"Yes, it's his suitcase," Washu confirmed.

"You knew he was coming home today, didn't you?" Ryoko growled at Washu.

"In a word: Yes," Washu replied. "I talked to him on Thursday."

"And you didn't see fit to share that with us?" Ayeka exclaimed.

"Nope. Why should I? It was your actions that drove him off in the first place." Washu received three sullen stares in reply. "Why don't we get dressed and welcome him home?"

* * * * *

They searched the house, but didn't find him. Nobuyuki was in his room, deep into a phone call, so there was a general reluctance to interrupt him. Eventually Sasami volunteered, on the grounds that "He won't get mad at me." They waited by the front door for her.

She came bouncing down the stairs. "He's up in the practice area!"

They went through the front door like a small stampede -- including Ryoko. She was nervous about what Tenchi might say, so she opted to walk to the clearing with the others.

The pathway to the practice area was a trail branching off the shrine steps. It was narrow enough that they had to traverse it single file. Washu took the lead, followed by Sasami, Ayeka, Mihoshi, and Ryoko. They did not hear the usual sounds of wood-on-wood impacts, as Tenchi practiced his strikes or sparred with his grandfather. In fact, they heard nothing at all but their own labored breathing.

They had just about entered the clearing when Washu literally bumped into Yosho, who was standing in the thickets at the edge of the practice area. He, too, had just arrived on-site, and was watching his grandson. The five females took up station around him, jostling one another for a clear view into the small meadow.

Tenchi was wielding the Master Key. It's blade pulsed with blue-white fire and hummed softly, changing pitch as it changed position. Tenchi was walking through a kata, his eyes unfocused and his breathing controlled. He didn't seem to be aware of them.

After several moments, Washu leaned over and whispered to Yosho. "I see he has better control of the Master Key now."

Yosho nodded. "I don't know what he spent the last week doing, but I must congratulate him on its effectiveness."

They watched in silence as Tenchi flowed smoothly into yet another kata. Yosho glanced at Ryoko, and then leaned over and whispered into her ear. She jerked backwards and stared at him, finally muttering, "You must be crazy!" Washu, who had overhead the exchange, reached out and grabbed her daughter's arm. Yosho grabbed the other, and together they shoved the reluctant girl out of the bushes and into the clearing.

Ryoko spun around to see Tenchi's reaction, but he appeared oblivious to her presence. She turned to find Yosho and Washu boring holes into her with their eyes, urging her further into the clearing. She considered simply teleporting somewhere else, but decided that she'd hear no end of it if she ran away. And truth be told, running away was against her nature. With a deep sigh, she turned once again to face the love of her life, and with a snap of her wrist her energy sword materialized. She advanced slowly on Tenchi.

Tenchi finished his kata before finally turning to face Ryoko. He silently saluted her. His eyes were still unfocused, and it dawned on Ryoko suddenly where she had seen that look before -- Yosho's eyes had possessed the same vacant stare, 700 years earlier, the day he had defeated her in combat. She shivered, and set her guard stance.

Tenchi and Ryoko squared-off, each taking a conservative mid-level guard. Ryoko gnawed on her lip; she didn't want to hurt him. He seemed collected enough, so she started a series of slow strikes, lightly swung, to judge what he would do. He parried or evaded all of them with textbook-precise techniques, though offering no counters. Ryoko stepped back out of range to consider the exchange.

She shrugged and stepped in again, starting another series of strikes. These were just a bit faster than before, but with no real power behind them. Again, Tenchi parried or evaded, sliding out of range.

Throwing caution to the winds, and a prayer to whatever gods were watching, Ryoko jumped forward with a lightening-fast series of cuts. They were aimed at random, and she was ready to pull back at any point should her blade slip through his defenses. Once again, Tenchi parried and evaded, giving ground. He wasn't even breathing hard.

But as soon as her phrase had completed, he jumped forward and launched a horizontal slice off his left shoulder, aiming for Ryoko's right side. It was a quick move, and the ferocity of it left her wondering if he was still angry with her. She dropped into a squat, ducking under the cut. At the end of its swing, Tenchi flipped the blade and dropped to his left knee, starting a cut at Ryoko's left side. She responded by springing into the air and cartwheeling to her left, passing over his sword.

She landed in a crouch, arms akimbo and sword dangling somewhere over her right shoulder. The Master Key ended its arc pointed directly at her. Rather than reposition the blade, Tenchi stood and pivoted counterclockwise on his right foot as his left foot slid backwards. In the same motion, he reverse-gripped the Master Key and tucked it near his right armpit, keeping it aligned on Ryoko's centerline. He closed the distance between them by stepping backwards with his right foot. The result was a rear thrust aimed directly at her chest.

She responded by stepping back with her right foot, her elbows slapping into her ribs as her wrists crossed, right-over-left. Her sword deflected Tenchi's blade off to her left. Like a spring uncoiling, her right foot stamped forward, and her right hand lunging outward as she initiated a thrust of her own. Tenchi pivoted clockwise on left foot, his right foot drawing a crescent across the grass. His inverted weapon was raised into a vertical guard that parried her blade off to his right.

However, his motion didn't cease: his momentum continued to propel him in a clockwise motion, and once again he brought the Master Key into a couched position along his right side. Ryoko was recovering from her lunge when she found herself looking squarely at Tenchi's shoulder blades. She became aware of his head twisting to look over his right shoulder, of the Master Key's blade protruding from his right hip, and his right foot rising off the ground. Her instincts warned her to *evade*, and she started to step backward at the same time grasping the hilt of her sword with both hands. She realized too late that the attack was not coming from the Master Key, but from his cocked leg, which shot out in a backwards stamping kick right beneath her guard. She felt the flat of his foot laid gently -- but firmly -- across her exposed ribs. The implications were obvious. For added emphasis, he slowly extended the bent leg to its full reach, nudging her backwards a few inches.

She stepped back and lowered her blade. Although his eyes still held that unfocused appearance, the rest of face was lit by a mischievous grin. In a flash of realization, Ryoko knew that there was no anger within him, and that he had no intention of hurting her. He was *playing* with her! She relaxed, giving him a feral grin of her own. "Let's have some fun, Tenchi." He nodded in reply.

Ryoko was suddenly feeling very frisky. And aggressive. She took a left-leg-forward stance with her sword positioned next to her right shoulder (a very intimidating posture). Tenchi mirrored her, waiting patiently. He didn't have to wait long: she swung her sword through a 360-degree arc parallel to the ground, aiming for his left shoulder. Tenchi's hands dropped to his left hip, the Master Key's blade deflecting her attack.

It was a ruse, of course: as her hands crossed her centerline on the back half of their orbit, her right hand opened and her left hand swung the sword in a lightning-quick slice towards his still-exposed left leg. The extra length provided by the off-handed grip enabled her to reach his knee without having to lean forward. Tenchi's hands had risen slightly after her first pass, but he was able to convert the movement into a downward spiral as his right hand plunged clockwise. Their blades impacted mere inches outside his left knee.

Ryoko exploited his hard block by throwing her body-weight forward and counterclockwise, pivoting on the ball of her left foot. Her right foot rose to knee-height, and as she halved the distance between them she aimed a shin-kick at his left thigh. Tenchi responded by leaning backwards and lifting his left knee high enough to intercept her leg at an oblique angle. Their feet slapped to the ground.

Still harnessing her forward momentum, Ryoko's empty right hand rocketed upward from her hip, aiming an uppercut straight for Tenchi's jaw. With both hands committed to restraining her sword, he could do nothing more to avoid the blow than lean away from it. She stopped the punch less than an inch from his chin. She knew that, had this been and an adrenalized full-contact impact powered by her super-normal strength, she would have broken bones -- at the least his jaw, at the worst his neck. Tenchi acknowledged the point by tilting his head forward and kissing her knuckles.

She recoiled, wide-eyed and blushing. For his part, Tenchi simply returned to a mid-level guard posture, his lop-sided grin slowly evaporating as he returned to the task at hand.

Ryoko giggled once before resuming her guard. She was exuberant: Tenchi was no longer angry with her. She launched a series of strikes to the four corners of his defense, setting a pattern and rhythm that he would be forced to adapt to. Once she felt he was fully entrained, she raised her sword in an apparent high strike, waiting for him to follow -- and then teleported behind him. She swung her sword at his exposed back, hoping she could brake it before it actually touched him.

Except he blocked it.

He had continued the rising motion with his arms, allowing his blade to curl over his right shoulder and angle across his spine. He was stepping away from her as the blades crossed well away from his skin. He turned with a casual grace and faced her, safely out of range. She didn't allow him any respite, but rushed at him with another berserker flurry of cuts. Midway through this pattern she teleported into the 'dead spot' behind his right shoulder, and again swung for his exposed back.

Except he wasn't there.

Ryoko's sword passed through empty space, and Tenchi watched from his location to her left. Ryoko recovered her guard, amazement painted on her face. Evading her once might have been attributed to luck -- but not twice. He *knew* when and where she was teleporting to, and had easily responded to the danger. Only one other opponent had ever been able to do that to her, and he was observing them from the shrubbery. The grin returned to her face with the knowledge that he had somehow acquired his grandfather's magical sight. She relaxed fully for the first time, and her competitive instincts cycled to the fore; she wanted to see just how good he was. She started the next exchange, getting five cuts into her pattern before teleporting *above* him. She floated just high enough to execute a downward thrust that should have impaled his skull.

But he was gliding away, completely unscathed.

Then she dove after him, her sword executing a spiral intended to sweep his blade away from his body and leave him helpless. Instead, Tenchi stepped forward, bringing the Master Key's blade upward in an intercepting spiral of it's own. His blade caught her's just above her right hand, pushing it off-line. And then his left hand snaked over her right wrist to grab the glowing hilt between her hands. Using her forward momentum, and his own inertia as he spun to his right, he leveraged her sword right out of her hands.

Ryoko spun about in mid-air, paralyzed with shock. Normally, she could have lifted Tenchi off the ground with one hand. But his technique was so unexpected that she had failed completely to react. She watched him finish his pirouette, crossing both blades in front of his chest like a red-and-blue scissors. She faced him completely defenseless.

Seconds later, her sword shimmered and vanished, and after a short pause, he extinguished the Master Key's blade. His eyes closed and he took a deep, calming breath. When he opened his eyes they focused on her's, that familiar heart-melting smile spreading across his face. "Well, how did I do?" he asked.

She flew to him, wrapping both arms around his neck and spinning him completely around, her feet parallel to the ground, the whole time laughing joyously. With a nimble twist she landed in his arms, looking into his eyes. "Do you know that *no one* has *ever* disarmed me before? That was incredible!"

He shrugged. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time." She tightened her embrace, putting her head on his shoulder, only vaguely aware that they were no longer alone.

"Oh, Tenchi, that was magnificent!" Ayeka exclaimed, clutching at his arm while trying to pry Ryoko's grip loose.

"Wow, Tenchi, that was awesome!" Mihoshi declared. She was hopping from foot to foot she was so excited.

"Yay, Tenchi!" Sasami shouted, squirming her way into the growing tangle of bodies.

"Would you ladies give Ryoko some credit? She's a tough opponent," Tenchi replied. Ryoko's breath caught in her throat -- Tenchi was defending her! She didn't know if it was due to courtesy or affection, and frankly didn't care. She snuggled even closer, purring like a cat. "Besides, this was an exercise not a contest, so there are no winners or losers. Just valuable lessons learned."

"A very sound observation," Yosho said. He and Washu had finally joined them, setting a more dignified pace.

"You've changed, Tenchi," Washu said. She studied him over her crossed arms, nodding her approval. "What did you learn?"

"To accept the moment without preconceptions," he replied. "Whether it's a Juraian artifact or Juraian citizens, judgments should be avoided."

His message was as clear as the mountain air. Any lingering apprehension about his return vanished.

"And that's how you sensed when I would teleport?" Ryoko asked.

"No, but it was no surprise when you did. I saw the glow from your sword as you rematerialized, and simply moved away from it."

"Photon spillage," Washu muttered. "Good work, Tenchi."

"Just where were you all week?" Sasami asked.

Tenchi grinned at her. "I was flying a kite." He laughed at the looks on their faces. "Never mind, I'll explain later. Right now, I think I should unpack. Let's go home."

* * * * * Author's Notes * * * * *

This story is intended for the OAV continuity, anytime after Episode #6.

On kite festivals:  
There are a number of major kite-based festivals in Japan each year, running from May through September. The Shirone Kite Festival is real, and differs from the others primarily in the emphasis on the tug-of-wars. My first exposure to this came from looking at the pictures and video on the Web at . (follow the links labeled "Nagasaki Festival and Hata Kites" and "Shirone"). Later, I found . with some photos. I admit to embellishing the details somewhat (chalk it up to dramatic license), but I don't believe I did any serious damage.

On energy swords:  
The closest I ever saw to a rational or logical explanation for this kind of weapon was an essay on Star Wars lightsabres, and it used to be located at: .#index I believe the author, Robert Brown, updates the information regularly. Barring a canon explanation from the TM producers, I offer my own 'warp bubble' definition as a possible mechanism. In my estimation, the explanation is irrelevant -- it's just a damn cool concept.

On fencing:  
Munenmuso is real, and I can speak from experience (albeit limited). By way of credentials, I was a man-at-arms in the Society for Creative Anachronism (.org) for 15 years, before retiring for health reasons. In fact, my mon (Japanese crest) is still on file with the Kingdom of Calontir Armorial (.com/dakea, click on "Onami Ryome"). Ask some of the graybeards around the kingdom and they may still remember the samurai with the red-and-black armor. Somewhere in that period of time I managed to get squired to a knight, published a fencing pamphlet titled "A Bastardsword Dialogue," studied Toradachi Ryu Kenjutsu for four years, and helped raise three daughters. Since then, I've dabbled in Modern Arnis and Tai Chi, and started fitting my 18-month-old grandson with his first set of rattan sticks (ok, ok, so he s a little young yet....geeez).

The characters of Tenchi Muyo were created by Misaki Kajashima and Hiroki Hayashi, and brought to North America by Pioneer LDC. This story, while incorporating names and situations held under copyright by others, is copyright 2001 by Jeffery L. Harris.

This story comes entirely from my imagination, and is not, nor intended to be, canon. Please do not send the legions of lawyers after me...it's not worth their time, or mine.

Any questions or comments should be directed to:

Jeffery L Harris Subject: "No Need For An Epiphany"


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